


colours of a broken heart (and how it became whole again)

by dizzyingly_dreamy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Angst, Not beta'd we die like men, Post CACW, Smut, This Is How It Ends, fuck endgame and infinity war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyingly_dreamy/pseuds/dizzyingly_dreamy
Summary: The fifth night, T’Challa approached him and offered to move a cot into Bucky’s room, and Steve didn’t say anything in response. After a few minutes of silence, in which Steve tried to figure out how to say yes, thank you, T’Challa left him alone, looking out at the Wakandan rainforests and terrain. Hours later, after Steve came back in from eating dinner, alone, outside in a densely forested area, there was a cot laid out next to Bucky’s cyro chamber.~or, the process in which steve rogers and bucky barnes became completely defrosted
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	colours of a broken heart (and how it became whole again)

**Author's Note:**

> i disregard infinity war and endgame because i'm rewatching the entire marvel cinematic universe over again, and everything fucking hurts because of endgame and infinity war. 
> 
> they did us dirty, guys, and here's my response.
> 
> also, italics still doesn't transfer, so add emphasis where you think it's needed.

The first night, Steve fell asleep in Bucky’s room in a chair placed beside the cyro chamber. It was better than any sleep he’d had in a bed with a mattress, and it wasn’t just because of his military habits.

~

The fifth night, T’Challa approached him and offered to move a cot into Bucky’s room, and Steve didn’t say anything in response. After a few minutes of silence, in which Steve tried to figure out how to say yes, thank you, T’Challa left him alone, looking out at the Wakandan rainforests and terrain. Hours later, after Steve came back in from eating dinner, alone, outside in a densely forested area, there was a cot laid out next to Bucky’s cyro chamber.

~

The seventeenth night, Steve cried. It wasn’t sobs—he’d never been one to sob—but tears streamed down his face because Sam had found the red ledger used to control Bucky, and he’d managed to translate it. He learned that one of Bucky’s trigger words was seventeen, and another was homecoming, and another; freight car. He stood from sitting on  
the edge of his cot and walked up to Bucky, pressing his palm flat against the glass, cheeks wet and warm. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

~

The sixtieth night, Shuri, T’Challa’s snarky little sister, came into Steve and Bucky’s room and told Steve the progress they’d made. She told him how trauma, and PTSD, alter pathways in the brain in a physical sense, and that, in a way, they had the ability to heal them. Steve was appalled at the idea of them opening Bucky’s head, but Shuri quickly explained that they didn’t need to do surgery: they had Wanda, and she was more than willing to help, and they had done all the necessary research.

“No,” Steve said. “I’m not letting her do that.” Shuri looked at him with a sad look in her eyes and turned to leave. He let her, picking up the ledger and flipping it open. Consequentially, the serum had improved his memory and his ability to learn—he was close to fluent in Russian, now, and could read the language easily. He wondered if Wanda spoke Russian, and then looked up at Bucky with a sigh.

~

The sixty-second night, they pulled Bucky out of cyro. Steve was there, the entire time, watching as Bucky’s skin regained its flush, and his eyes began to open. He blinked at Shuri, T’Challa, and a few other lab-hands, gaze finally falling on Steve. It felt like coming home, and Steve’s chest tightened. He stepped forward, unbuckling the straps over Bucky’s chest, stomach and hips, catching him easily when he fell forward. 

“I don’t—” Bucky began, his hand clutching onto Steve’s shoulder, “why did you wake me up?”

“We have a way, Buck,” Steve replied, his voice shaking. Bucky stumbled back, still unsteady on his feet, hand sliding from Steve’s shoulder. Steve fought against the urge to pull him back, because he was so scared that Bucky was going to disappear, like smoke and mirrors. Bucky looked at him, shivering, and Steve immediately sought out the blanket from his cot, wrapping it around Bucky like his mother used to.

“How sure are you?” Bucky asked, voice pitched low. Steve swallowed, hard, but the painful lump in his throat that had formed there didn’t go away. 

“Sure,” Steve croaked. He cleared his throat. “Sure,” he repeated, and that sounded better. That sounded like Captain America, the person who had walked out of the ice in the place of Steve Rogers. Bucky nodded, once, and Steve led him to sit on his cot. Bucky instantly tensed at the sight of the red ledger, and Steve scrambled to shove it away, out of sight.

“I wanted to know,” Steve explained quietly. “I had to know.” 

“Okay,” Bucky breathed, leaning against Steve. Steve instinctively began to tense, because it was written in his DNA that he wanted this closeness, but that it was bad and that someone would catch them and throw them in jail. He forced himself to relax, because they weren’t in the thirties, and they were alone. He carefully, tentatively put an arm around  
Bucky’s shoulders, and was overwhelming relieved when Bucky just leaned closer. 

Okay. 

A few hours later, Bucky laid down in Steve’s cot, Wanda seated at the head, looking from Bucky to Steve with nervous eyes. Steve’s stomach was made of knots, and his hands were clenched into fists in the pockets of his hoodie. Sam was standing beside him, arms crossed over his chest, along with T’Challa, Shuri, and the lab-hands, standing ready in case something went wrong. 

Please, Steve thought desperately, don’t go wrong. 

“Are you ready, Mr Barnes?” Wanda asked softly, and Bucky nodded once, then closed his eyes. Steve took in a slow breath and held it as Wanda’s crimson magic flowed from her palms and into Bucky’s temples. Bucky tensed, one hand clenched into a fist at his side, jaw clenched. Steve jerked forward a little, his instincts telling him to get Wanda as far  
away from Bucky as possible, but Sam threw an arm across his chest.

“Breathe, Steve,” Sam murmured, low enough that only Steve and T’Challa would hear. Steve let out the breath he was holding, reluctantly, and his head spun for a few moments. 

Minutes passed, turning into hours, Bucky shifting from tense to slack, and back to tense within seconds. Wanda gasped occasionally, her brow shining with sweat, until she finally pulled back, collapsing in her chair. Bucky’s eyes flew open, and he sat up, eyes fiery in a way that screamed that the Bucky Steve loved was back, gaze immediately landing  
on Steve’s. 

This time, Sam let Steve jerk forward and approach Bucky. Bucky reached up with his hand and grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt, not harsh enough to hold him, but enough to make Steve stay put. His eyes were boring into Steve’s, filled with emotions that Steve couldn’t place or name, even if he wasn’t dizzy with relief and worry.

“Say the words.” Bucky snarled. Steve’s eyes widened, and his jaw tensed. 

“Buck—” Steve whispered, pleaded. 

“Say them.” Bucky repeated. “You have to say them, Steve. I need to know.”

Steve swallowed hard, and Bucky licked his lips, closing his eyes briefly and tightening his grip on Steve’s hoodie. He tugged on Steve’s clothing and opened his eyes. 

“Please.” Bucky breathed, barely audible, eyes glassy. “You’re the only one who knows them, and you’re the only one who can hit me hard enough.” 

“Dammit, Bucky,” Steve hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. He licked his lips and blinked, focusing on the steel blue of Bucky’s eyes. Hydra had taken a good chunk of  
Bucky away, but his eyes were the same frustrating colour that Steve couldn’t recreate, no matter how hard he tried. He sighed, and, taking a risk, rested his forehead against Bucky’s, sitting onto his knees.

“Longing,” he began, in rough Russian. Bucky closed his eyes. Steve did too. “Rusted. Furnace. Daybreak. Seventeen. Benign. Nine. Homecoming. One. Freight Car.” 

“Steve,” Bucky gasped, and Steve’s eyes flew open, terrified and hopeful. Bucky’s eyes were staring back at him, still steel blue and unmistakably his. Steve let out a groan and his head fell down, into Bucky’s chest, hands gripping Bucky’s lower thighs.

It was over. He had Bucky back.

~

T’Challa and Shuri presented Bucky with a new arm, one that Steve had helped design, a week after Bucky was pulled from cyro. It was a sleek, matte black, lined with gold, and where Hydra’s red star used to be, was instead the head of a flower. The flower was his little sister Becca’s favourite—a blush pink carnation—and when Bucky saw it, he traced over it methodically, eyes glassy. 

Bucky permitted Shuri to wire the arm into his nervous system, and Steve, despite his anxieties about letting Bucky go back under, supported him. The procedure itself took nearly twenty hours—twenty hours that Steve spent awake and on edge. Shuri came out, like they were in a hospital, and told Steve that everything was perfectly fine, and that Bucky would need rest for a couple days. 

“Doesn’t do much else,” Steve muttered, yawning and raking a hand through his hair. “It won’t be hard. Thank you, Shuri. For everything.” 

Shuri smiled tiredly. “It is not a problem, Captain. You and Sergeant Barnes deserve the happiness and peace that was kept from you for so long.” She turned and walked away, and Steve waited until he felt like he could breathe properly again, and then walked into the place where Bucky was lying, asleep. He stayed by his side until a few hours passed, and the drugs keeping him asleep wore off because of his incredibly metabolism and the serum.

“Steve,” Bucky slurred, and his left hand, his metal hand twitched, so Steve laced their fingers together, and held him. Bucky’s eyes drifted slowly down to their clasped hands, and he flexed his metal fingers, eyebrows raising and lips curling up into a smirk. “Hey, I can feel you,” he murmured, shifting closer to Steve. Steve grinned, like the fool in love that he was, and squeezed Bucky’s hand. 

“It’s good?” Steve asked, “feels alright?” Bucky nodded like his head was made of stone, and Steve stifled the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest. Bucky grunted and shifted, making to sit up, but Steve reached up and pressed a gentle hand to the center of his chest. Bucky fell back like he was made of tissue paper, and as soon as his head hit the pillows, he was back asleep.

He woke two other times to find that Steve hadn’t so much as moved, but his sketchpad was flipped open in his lap, pencil scratching across the paper. Bucky hummed and smiled easily, the kind of smile that Steve wasn’t used to seeing so often but that made his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t see what Steve was drawing, but then, he’d never really seen what Steve had drawn—he’d always known it was him, just by the way Steve’s eyes flicked between him and the paper frequently. Steve kept drawing, murmuring to Bucky about things that had happened while he’d been asleep, and Bucky would nod off again.

Steve didn’t tell Bucky that in the first few hours after the surgery, Steve had admitted to being in love with him. He didn’t tell him that his eyes had cracked open, and his lips had curled up, and that he’d said he loved Steve too, ever since he was seventeen years old. 

He didn’t remember, because if he had, Steve would have seen it in his eyes. As it was, Steve couldn’t look at Bucky for very long without splitting into a wide, dopey grin, that had Bucky laughing and saying what? got something on my face? and Steve wanted to tell him, but couldn’t. He hadn’t thawed completely after the ice, but Bucky was finishing the job, and he knew that he wanted the chill out of his heart before he properly told Bucky how he felt.

Two days after the surgery, Bucky let Steve curl his fingers through his long hair, braiding it and keeping it away from his face. He sat cross-legged in front of Steve, and Steve sat behind him, legs stretched on either side of Bucky’s hips. The bed that they were in didn’t allow for much free space, but Steve didn’t mind. Bucky didn’t seem to either, making  
soft, happy noises when Steve’s fingers pressed against the nape of his neck, shifting closer every so often.

“Good?” Steve asked, putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, barely noticing that his fingers were brushing his new vibranium arm. Bucky let out a sharp exhale, and Steve’s hands immediately flew off of his shoulders, heart hammering. Had he hurt Bucky? Had he—

But then Bucky was turning around and looking at him like he was starved, and Steve was the first food he’d seen in years. Steve’s mind crapped out, short circuiting and running on fumes to try and comprehend why Bucky was looking at him like that.

His lips were warm, and soft—softer than Steve could have ever imagined, and he’d imagined it a lot—and he tasted sweet. Steve slid his arms around Bucky, pulling him closer, until he was lying beneath Bucky, Bucky’s arms braced beside his head, their legs tangled, their lips moving languidly against each other’s. His hands were on Bucky’s hips, roaming upward and pulling the white cloth that concealed his torso with them. Bucky shivered when Steve’s hands touched the bare skin of his lower back, and Steve wanted to  
cry because of how smooth and warm his skin was. It felt like caramel tasted, and he pushed Bucky’s shirt up further, seeking more of his skin. 

“I don’t—” Bucky suddenly whispered, mouthing at the sharp line of Steve’s jaw. “I don’t remember this.” 

Steve huffed laughter, his heart thrumming beneath his ribs, hands splayed over the smooth ridges of Bucky’s muscles in his shoulders. “That’s because we’ve never done this before,” he admitted, and Bucky paused in the act of biting gently into Steve’s neck. 

“That’s stupid,” he muttered, returning to sucking a mark into Steve’s skin. Steve half laughed, half whined at the feeling of Bucky’s teeth against his throat, ultimately pulling Bucky impossibly closer.

They got their own room together after that. They hadn’t…had sex—and Steve felt his stomach take a nosedive every time he thought about actually doing that, especially considering they were sharing a bed now. They’d shared a bed for most of their lives, but now…now the unspoken things were in the light, and it was okay, and Steve could hold Bucky’s hand or kiss his cheek.

Bucky was handsy—not that Steve minded, shit, if anything, he loved it—and seemed to like making Steve blush by grabbing his ass in front of Wanda or Shuri. It worked like a charm, of course, and Steve responded by giving Bucky a livid mark that would be gone in a couple hours over the pulse-point in his throat. 

He was happy—happier than he’d been for more than seventy years.

~

On the one-hundred-and-fifth night, after dinner as Steve sat up in bed, drawing, Bucky pushed the pencil from his hands and the sketchpad from his lap. Steve looked up, eyebrows raised, but quickly melted as Bucky kissed him slowly, like they had all the time in the world.

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, pulling from the kiss and looking into Steve’s eyes. Steve knew what he was asking, and yeah, his heart jumped, and his face heated up, but he nodded, because it was Bucky. 

“Yeah,” he replied, reaching up and tangling his fingers in Bucky’s chestnut hair. “Yeah, okay Buck.” 

They used an oil that smelled like honey—and that, paired with Bucky’s musk, had Steve’s head spinning and his pupils dilating, even without the sight of Bucky without any clothing on. Steve mapped out Bucky’s body with his lips, each kiss a promise, each bite a brand, and Bucky returned the favour until Steve’s breathing was beyond fucked, and his heart was beating erratically. 

“Bucky,” Steve whined at one point, and he felt Bucky’s lips stretch into that proud, wolfish grin against the skin of his hip, his fingers slick and pressing into Steve, finding places that Steve didn’t even know existed. He kept Steve at the edge, and Steve was more than happy to let Bucky take hours to explore every inch of Steve, sparks of intense pleasure going off like fireworks behind his eyes. 

And then Bucky swallowed him whole, like he’d been doing this for his entire life, and Steve came with a cry that was something like Bucky’s name, hips bucking slightly. Bucky swallowed ever last drop, leaning up and giving Steve a filthy kiss that had him rousing in interest once more. Steve groaned and carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, tugging him closer. 

When Bucky bottomed out, Steve saw stars. He moved slowly, rocking into Steve, their hands clasped beside Steve’s head, lips brushing as they breathed the same air, soft sounds coming from both of them. Steve was already sliding over the edge when Bucky sucked lightly on his earlobe, hot breath tickling his ear and sending shivers down his spine, and whispered just how much he loved Steve. 

Steve’s body tightened around Bucky like a vice as he came for a second time, and Bucky groaned, tipping over the edge within a few seconds, face buried in the crook of Steve’s sweat-damp neck. Steve’s hand—the one that wasn’t clasped in Bucky’s flesh one—dug into Bucky’s back, leaving marks as he rode out the waves that just kept coming, and coming. 

They curled up like that, and Steve told Bucky about the first few hours after his surgery. Bucky looked up, mildly startled, and Steve added that he didn’t think Bucky meant it—that it was just the drugs. 

“For someone so smart, kiddo,” Bucky laughed, rolling off Steve and pressing chaste kisses to his cheek as he went. Steve grumbled and shuffled closer, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist, keeping him close.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered, tucking his head under Bucky’s jaw. “I got it, jerk.” 

“I’ve always been yours, punk,” Bucky breathed. “Ain’t nothing gonna change that.” 

Steve fell asleep with a huge, foolish grin, and the lullaby of Bucky’s heart. 

~

T’Challa gave them a house that he had built especially for them, and Steve couldn’t re-hinge his jaw, so Bucky had to, rolling his eyes and grumbled the whole time. It was on the palace grounds, so that no one would bother them, but it was isolated. There was a forested part of T’Challa’s land, where few went, and in the center was Steve and Bucky’s home. 

When T’Challa had left them to explore it with a smile and a trail of Steve’s stuttered thanks, Bucky had knotted their fingers together, grinning up at the house and then back at Steve. 

“Got our wish,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve huffed in awe, and nodded, squeezing Bucky’s hand. They had wanted this for as long as they’d been friends, even before they realised that what they felt for each other wasn’t exactly platonic, and now they had it. 

Wow, Steve thought as they explored the space. It was small, but cozy, and Steve wouldn’t have had it any other way. There was the main floor, which consisted of a kitchen that doubled as a dining area, and a living room with a bathroom off to the side. There were stairs leading up, and there were four rooms upstairs total—a master bedroom, a guest room, a studio filled with art supplies and several of Bucky’s beloved knives and guns, and a bathroom that was attached to the master. 

They were sitting outside on their little porch swing a few days later, legs tangled, laughing softly to each other as Steve flipped through his old sketchbooks that Bucky had stolen from the museum, explaining each drawing. Bucky remembered each memory, of course, but Steve knew that his retelling of it was comforting. Most of them were Bucky, but that wasn’t a surprise, and Steve was shocked to find that Bucky’s cheeks seemed permanently pink after they finished looking through the first sketchbook.

That was how Tony found them—winded together and laughing at old, treasured memories. Bucky noticed him first, likely due to the Hydra training that Shuri had left behind, on Bucky’s request, and tensed. Steve looked at Bucky, frowning slightly, and then followed his gaze until it landed on the sharply dressed billionaire.

“Tony,” Steve said, carefully untangling himself from Bucky, getting to his feet. Tony looked around, sunglasses perched casually on his nose, hands tucked into his pockets, briefcase at his feet. 

“Cute,” he said, looking back to Steve. “Heard your arm has a couple kinks in it, Barnes.” He said, a little louder, and Steve turned to find Bucky standing just behind him, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, flexing his metal fist. They were minor—mostly mobility issues, and the fact that the little switch that turned his artificial nerves on and off sometimes had a mind of its own, which wasn’t ideal. Shuri had promised to look at them today, saying something about being overwhelmed with keeping her brother out of trouble, and they’d said that was fine. 

“Right.” Tony cleared his throat and walked closer, until he was at the base of their porch, Steve and Bucky looking down at him, all three of them tense. “I’m, uh, here to fix those.” 

Steve was stunned, and it hit him again when Bucky nodded and let Tony sit by him on the porch swing, a case of tools spread out in his lap. Steve went inside to get them all something to drink, and when he came back, Bucky was laughing, and Tony was smirking as he worked on Bucky’s arm. 

“You called him out on saying shit?” Bucky chuckled, and Steve groaned, sitting opposite Tony and Bucky, handing them each a beer that was more for taste than anything. “You swear worse than anyone I’ve ever met, Stevie,” Bucky added before taking a swig. 

“What?” Tony cried, looking genuinely taken aback. Bucky smirked and nodded. “Virgin Capsicle swears like a sailor?”

“Virgin?” Bucky repeated, spluttering. “Where the hell do you get these ideas?” 

Steve just sighed and drank more of his beer, wishing he could at least get tipsy, his face heated. Tony and Bucky began exchanging stories, laughing and acting like they were friends, and had been for years. When Bucky elaborated on Steve’s lack of virginity even slightly, Tony made a face and said ew ew ew, much to Bucky’s pleasure.

The sun dipped low in the sky when Tony finished, and Bucky tested his arm out, smiling and nodding, thanking Tony. Tony nodded, raking his fingers through his hair, unrolling the sleeves of his button-down that he’d rolled up hours ago. 

He apologized, as best as he could, and Steve and Bucky did too. Tony made a crack after they’d had their moment, breaking the tension, and Steve offered for Tony to stay the night in their guest room. 

“Ha,” Tony snorted, packing up his tools. “Yeah, I don’t want to witness the super-serum libido up close and personal. You two have fun.”  
Steve walked him back to the palace and thanked him. Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder and smiled, a genuine smile that Steve rarely caught glimpses of. 

“I’ve never seen you this happy, winghead.” Tony said, tucking his hands back into his pockets. “It’s a good look on you. On him, too.” 

Tony was gone the next day, but Steve found his number listed in his contacts after slipping out of bed in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Tony was listed as the better avenger, and Steve grinned at the implication of him still being an avenger. He turned his cell off and slid it onto the bedside table, curling back up next to Bucky. Bucky grunted and rolled over, pulling Steve’s arms around him, and Steve chuckled softly as he spooned Bucky, holding him close. 

“Love you,” Steve murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck. 

“You’re a sap,” Bucky muttered. “I love you too.” Steve scoffed, teeth grazing Bucky's shoulder as his lover smiled audibly in the dark.

The cold had left him, finally, and he found himself happy and whole.

~

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me in the comments--it's literally my only form of socialization at this point of quarantine.
> 
> kudos and comments make my day :) hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> i send love to all of u guys <3 <3 <3


End file.
